we are aching bones and wasted years; minette

[magnus]

you and I both know that the house is haunted
and you and I both know that the ghost is me

Their thoughts mirror one another. As she wonders whether he would look at her the same if he knew the darkness in her soul, he wonders the same. He is not the white knight he has always aspired to be. He does not have a blameless past. He had murdered. He had hungered for war. He had given into the keen edge of desire for violence. He had abandoned Joelle and abdicated his throne. He had failed to protect those who he loved so much. His soul was steeped in the bitterness of his sin, and there was no way for him to ever forget it. They were writ like stories upon his flesh, scars crossing and intersecting forever.

But she, much like Joelle, mellows him—softens him. She makes him wish he was better. He had to be better, do better by her. “There are no words strong enough for you, Minette,” he whispers softly, looking down at the child (their child) between them every so often to ensure that she was sleeping. His gold-flecked eyes move upward to catch her own, and he listens although he swears that his heart has stopped beating. It seemed too good to be true, and he caught his feathers rustling, on edge, waiting for Gryffen.

“We can leave whenever you are ready,” he promises, bringing his nose down toward hers where they exchange breaths, the air sweet. At her request, he closes his eyes, breathing deeply and exhaling softly, “Of course, I will.” He opens his eyes again, face painted with emotion, “I will stay.” What he does not say is that he will watch—that he will wait until she falls asleep and then take to the skies to keep an eye out for the Chamber’s ghost. He could not run the risk of him returning before they left. He could not run the risk of him ruining Minette’s escape. His wing continued to lay across her back. “Rest.”

MAGNUS

once general. once lord. once king.